Fall Short of Certainty
by moxicrimefighter
Summary: DHr: Hermione is killed in battle, leaving an intricate web of lies in her wake. What happens when a broken Ron Weasley begins to unravel said web finding none other than the Slytherin King Draco Malfoy right in the thick of it.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **Seriously guys, we all know we don't own HP, I'd actually be pretty scared to see what happened if we did.

**Prologue**

Ron Weasley made his way purposefully down the dark and abandoned halls of Hogwarts. He looked particularly disheveled, his mop of red hair was soaking wet from the downpour outside and stubbornly clinging to his forehead while his battle tattered robes billowed around him. In his right hand was his wand, his fingers wrapped tightly around it so that his knuckles were white. This was not a very uncommon sight, the leisurely strolling that was so common about the wizarding world disappeared after The War began and was replaced with quick fearful steps, wand always at the ready, always on the defense. The rhythmic sound of his shoes against the stone floor and the steady swoosh of his robes reverberated eerily down the long dimly lit corridor.

Through the apparent look of determination on his face he was seething. The boyishness of his face was gone, replaced by the hard-edged scowl of a man that had seen far more than his age should permit. But that was to be expected wasn't it? The War had taken a lot from everyone, especially with the recent ferocity of the attacks. Voldemort was upping the ante, and in a very big way, who was he to think that he could be any different? He knew from reading the steadily growing obituaries in the Daily Prophet that death and loss were mere commonplace now, but he just never thought that he could lose something…someone that meant so much to him. They'd always been able to escape everything, take the most hopeless of situations and come out on top. Looking back now, he thought of how foolish he was to think that they were invincible.

He reached his destination and muttered something under his breath. Suddenly the staircase leading to the Headmasters office appeared before him and he paused. His anger seemed to dissipate for a second and became replaced by a look of agony. He paused and stared down at his left hand, seemingly contemplating going up the stairs. But as soon as it had left, the previous fury that was written all over his face returned and he quickly walked up the staircase.

He thought he could hear voices as he approached the top but when he reached the door it was silent. His hand raised to knock on the door but halted before making contact as if he was again reconsidering his actions.

"Come in Mr. Weasley." Came the ever pleasant voice of Albus Dumbledore through the thick dark wood of the door.

Cautiously opening the door, Ron walked into the Headmasters office slowly and shut the door silently behind him. The office was dark, due to the rather late hour and lit solely by several candles, enchanted to float over Dumbledore's large desk. He turned to regard the aged wizard sitting before him, letting his back rest lightly against the door.

"Hullo Professor" He said curtly though his face never lost its apparent rage.

Dumbledore raised his hand.

"It's been months since you've left Hogwarts Ron, I'm sure there's no need for the upkeep of such pleasantries." He stated good-naturedly. The light-heartedness of his tone of voice seemed to do nothing to help Ron's furious demeanor. When he said nothing Dumbledore continued.

"Well, I would ask how you're doing Mr. Weasley, but considering your appearance and the hour of this visit, I'm sure I'm about to find out ."

Ron took this as an invitation as he straightened and opened his mouth and closed it again. He apparently had something very important to say and was considering how to go about saying it. Choosing the direct approach he suddenly said

"I know who did it."

"Did what?" Dumbledore questioned though he was almost positive he knew what 'it' he was referring to. Ron simply looked at the professor as if he was playing a cruel joke on him. His gaze shifted to the ground as his fists clenched tightly at his side.

"I know who killed…her….I know who killed Hermione." He breathed through clenched teeth.

Dumbledore was about to speak when an odd noise came from behind where Fawkes was sitting, preening her feathers. Ron's head snapped suspiciously in the direction of the noise but thought nothing more of it.

"Well this certainly is good news Mr. Weasley, but I really must ask why you came to me with this information." Dumbledore queried as he knitted his fingers together and examined Ron.

"Harry suggested that I come here to you before I get the Ministry to lock that bastard in Azkaban for the rest of his life." He growled.

Dumbledore smiled lightly before motioning to one of the large leather chairs in front of his desk.

"Sit Mr. Weasley, I'm quite anxious to hear this story." He grabbed a small glass dish as Ron situated himself in the seat across from him. "Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered.

Ron waved the small yellow candies away as he contemplated where to begin.

"Shall we start with the culprit, perhaps?" Suggested Dumbledore as he motioned for a few of the candles in their direction to better illuminate their meeting.

"It was Draco Malfoy." He spat, making his malicious contempt for the wizard more than obvious. Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow but showed no apparent signs of shock. Ron took his silence as an invitation to continue his story.

"During the attack in the muggle park yesterday, when we lost Seamus and Parvati and… Hermione…." His eyes darkened but he continued on. "The order was advancing on the death eaters, the ones that weren't dueling with one of the Order members were apparating away. I was dueling with… Goyle's dad I think it was, can never be to sure with those masks. He apparently recognized who I was, not that it's really very hard." Ron scoffed bitterly at his own joke.

"He taunted me, trying to get me to lose my concentration I s'pose. He said the usual stuff about my family being blood traitors, nothing we haven't all heard before, but then he started going on and on about my….." He paused as his anger began to build up at the remembrance of the incident and tears filled his eyes, the malice in his voice was growing with each syllable.

"My pathetic mudblood girlfriend, how it was too bad she was muggle born because if she wasn't he would have liked to … well, he was just trying to get to me, and when he saw that was working he kept up with it. But then he said, that if she was such a clever little witch then how could she let Malfoy do what he did to her." Ron squinted his eyes in a vain attempt to hide the tears spilling out of his bright blue eyes. He let his hands bury themselves into his wild red hair as he began to tremble in rage.

"That bastard killed my Hermione." He said in a angry, almost inaudible whisper.Dumbledore leaned back in his chair obviously mulling around Ron's words in his head letting the severity of his accusations sink in. Though Draco was a suspected Death Eater, and had never been very shy about voicing his affiliations with the Dark Arts and Voldemort, he was having a hard time to believe he would have it in him to end the life of another; especially not one of his fellow students, but even more importantly especially not Hermione Granger.

"Ron…" he began in a comforting voice. "We all miss Ms. Granger, and what happened to her was a terrible tragedy, and I would also like to see the crime punished. But I don't think that the word of a Death Eater is enough to sentence Mr. Malfoy to a lifetime in Azkaban."

"Are you kidding me!?" Ron shrieked, his arms had flown to the arms of his chair and he sat up straight on the edge of his seat defensively. His eyes searched Dumbledore's for some sign that he was joking.

"I'm HANDING you Hermione's KILLER, her KILLER, and you're saying that I don't have enough evidence?" The hatred he was displaying before was nothing compared to the rage he was showing now.

"Now… Ron…" Dumbledore said his voice carrying the soft hint of a warning, but Ron took no note of it.

"NO!" he screamed as he stood up. "Why do we need anymore evidence?! He's a bloody _MALFOY!_ Their family _crest_ has the bloody dark mark on it! It's not like killing a "lowly filthy mudblood" was some unspeakable act for him! He hated Hermione, HATED HER!" But at the mention of her name Ron seemed to calm a bit. His eyes searched Dumbledore's sadly.

"She was my girlfriend…. No, she was my fiancé." He corrected himself as a fresh set of tears began building in his eyes a sad smile crossing his features momentarily. "Did you know that? We were gonna get married, she thought we were being rash and irresponsible so we didn't tell anyone, but we were still going to do it. As soon as the war ended we were going to have a huge wedding at the Burrow, then have a bunch of red bushy haired babies in a huge house and…" He left the sentence unfinished and laughed through the tears that were spilling out of his eyes.

"But now it's …..it's …. It's just gone. Over! Everything we were dreaming is over all because of that self-righteous pure-blooded son of a bitch!"

"Mr. Weasley…" Dumbledore was slightly agitated and seemed almost fatherly as he stood up to make himself eye to eye with the angry young wizard. "Though I do understand your state of distress I would greatly appreciate it if you calmed down a bit. Ms. Granger is gone, and there is little we can do about that besides properly mourn her. And I'm sure that she would not appreciate you pointing fingers unjustifiably in an attempt to bring her killer to justice."

"I THINK IF IT WERE UP TO HER SHE WOULD STILL WANT TO BE ALIVE!" He screamed furiously, his whole body was shaking, his hands clenched into tight fists by his side. Then suddenly he turned to walk out the door, still yelling.

"I don't even know why I came here! The Ministry won't give a damn who I'm trying to lock up especially if his last name is Malfoy!" And with that and the swift slam of the door Ronald Weasley was gone.

Dumbledore sighed and calmly settled back in his chair before reaching across his large mahogany desk to grab a lemon drop. He placed it in his mouth listening to Ron's angry march down the stairs, when the sound of the door at the end of the stairway slamming echoed through the office he slowly shifted his gaze towards the corner behind Fawkes.

"Well Mr. Malfoy, it appears you have quite a lot of explaining to do." He said to what seemed like no one, but suddenly a deep male voice answered from the corner.

"It would appear so." Said Draco Malfoy as he removed his invisibility cloak and sauntered over to sit in the chair that Ron Weasley had just vacated. He, like Ron, looked as if he had just got out of battle. His usually perfectly groomed hair was hanging disorderly over his marred face and his expensive luxurious robes were tattered and stained with what appeared to be blood. Unlike Ron, his demeanor was very calm, though a smirk graced his lips as he leaned back in his chair obviously getting ready to fulfill Dumbledore's request of an explanation.

"You see…." He began but quit when Dumbledore raised his hand for him to cease.

"Oh, no no no. You don't owe me any sort of clarification, I'm quite aware of the state of things." He said with a wry smile. When Draco looked at him in confusion he decided to continue.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you really expect me to believe that you of all people would kill her?"

Still obviously not understanding what he was implying that he knew, Draco decided to play ignorant.

' Why would me killing a mudblood be unsuspected?" He sneered, showing his excessive pureblood arrogance. Dum

"I happen to know, Draco that even the cruelest and most heartless of men.' Dumbledore paused when he saw him flinch slightly at his words. "wouldn't kill a woman they love so dearly as you do our Ms. Granger."

Draco started and stared at the old wizard sitting before him barely believing his words. He thought that they had been careful, that they had taken every precaution to keep themselves secret. But this was Dumbledore, of course they couldn't get past him. Draco visibly relaxed as a mischievous grin played out on his marred face.

"No, Professor," He said calmly. "I DID kill her, just not in the sense you might be thinking.

**A/N: Sweet Jesus you read all the way to the bottom? wow. Well, as always review please!**


	2. Shallow Means, Deep Ends

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of it's characters. BUT IF I DID, Deathly Hallows would have been much much MUCH different. And definitely wouldn't have had that shite-ass epilogue. /bitter.

**Fall Short of Certainty**

Hermione Granger, for being such a smart girl really could be a blithering idiot sometimes. There she was sitting with her two equally as idiotic counterparts,

"Scarhead and Weaselbee." Draco mused to himself as he watched the three of them sitting at the Gryffindor table, eating Gryffindor food, enjoying each other's Gryffindor company. It was really enough to make him sick.

He continued to observe the Golden Trio from his usual seat at the Slytherin table as they carried on about whatever it is that go on and on about. Probably deciding the next way they can almost get themselves killed but narrowly escape in some ridiculously lucky way so the Daily Prophet can go on and on about their wonderful courage and determination in the face of danger.

Hermione was lecturing again, he could tell by the look on her face. Her head was lifted slightly so that she could look at Harry and Ron over the top of her nose as she chastised them with McGonagall like precision. Draco noticed how her hair was threatening to spill out of the bun she had secured by sticking her wand in her unruly tresses. A few locks had already freed themselves from their hold and were dangling by the milky white skin of her neck. Draco Malfoy was transfixed and damnit he hated it.

Ron seemed to notice the stray hairs falling around her face because at that moment he reached over and pulled the wand from it's place at the back of her head and her golden brown curls fell from their constraints and spilled down her shoulders. Draco always had hated her hair pulled up, it made her look too much like a younger version of their transfiguration teacher and with her hair splayed out all around her face he couldn't bring himself to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach. Why couldn't he just make himself look away, or better yet why wasn't she noticing his stare?

Hermione ceased her monologue and turned to Ron as if to yell at him for disrupting her hair but before she could say anything he caught her lips with his own in a quick kiss and went back to eating with a goofy grin on his pale freckled face. A slight blush crept over her cheeks as she smiled and looked over at Harry apologetically and said something, which he imagined would be along the lines of "Honestly, Ron!" Now _that_ was definitely enough to make him sick.

Just when he was about to look away her head suddenly snapped towards him and he found himself locked onto her deep brown gaze. It was an almost unnoticeable gesture, his slight jerk of the head, but he knew she saw it, she always saw it and she knew exactly what it meant. Draco shifted his gaze back to his own table as he began to gather his things.

"Where are you going?" asked Pansy from her place next to him as she grabbed his arm. Draco muttered a half-hearted excuse about being tired from quidditch practice and made his way out of the Great Hall. He felt bad for Pansy, he really did, she wasn't as bad as everyone made her out to be. The Parkinsons and the Malfoys had had them betrothed since before they could walk, and poor Pansy really wished to uphold her family's tradition, thus stemming her apparent infatuation with him. Contrary to popular belief it wasn't merely a physical attraction to him, it couldn't be, because Draco happened to know what went on with her and Blaise Zabini when he wasn't around. Sometimes his life was so ironic it almost hurt, he thought to himself as he sauntered down the corridor leading from the Great Hall into a very familiar alcove where he stopped and waited.

She had sped out of the Great Hall claiming she forgot to talk to Professor Sprout about an extra credit essay. But before she made it to the huge double doors she had ran into Luna Lovegood who was intent on talking her ear off it seemed. Usually she enjoyed her talks with Luna, despite her oddities. But right now she had other business she needed to attend so she rattled off a hurried excuse to the Ravenclaw and hurried away.

She fought the urge to run down the hallway but instead stuck to a fast-paced walk as her shoes clacked against the stone of the floor. Honestly, he could be so rude sometimes! There she was sitting next to RON, Ron her boyfriend of nearly a year, and he's staring her down, looking like he hadn't eaten in bloody near 3 weeks. And she had tried to ignore, she really had but when he looked at her like that, with that… hunger that ridiculous craving there really wasn't much else she could do besides follow him. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder to make sure that no one was following her as she neared her destination, but behind her the hallway was deserted. Suddenly she was grabbed roughly by the arm and pulled into a dark alcove, before she knew what was happening she found herself between a wall and the warmth of another body pressed against hers.

A placid grin spread out over her face as she looked up into the brilliant grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. His face was inches away from hers as she snaked her arm up around his neck her fingers playing idly with the ends of his hair.

"You're late." He teased as he slowly closed the gap between them. His lips came down on hers and she lost all touch with the real world.

It was always like that, that detached sort of euphoria they always talk about in those horrible romance novels, but either one of them would rather die before admit it. They were far too rational, too jaded to really believe in such things as soulmates, and butterflies and eternal love and everything else of the like. This was how it worked:

Draco Malfoy wanted Hermione Granger, for whatever reason it may be. He liked to think it was the way she whimpered and writhed beneath him whenever would bite her inner thighs, marring the smooth delicate flesh with purple bruises, or the way her toes curled under and dug into the mattress (or ground, depending on the situation) when she came. Hermione, on the other hand couldn't pin point why she let this persist. She always thought herself a smart girl, but something about him made her throw reasonable to the wind. They both wanted it, therefore they both got it. It wasn't like they were spilling their guts to each other, sharing their most deep and vile secrets, and planning their future life together. No, they fucked. That was it, they didn't make love, or sleep together, or any of those nice little fluffy terms. They. Fucked. It was nothing, it was physical, it was ephemeral, it wasn't a big deal.

But there they were defying everything they've ever been taught, everything they've ever believed in. There they were going behind their lovers backs, their real lovers, the ones that they were supposed to be with, just for the fleeting satisfaction of their lips and bodies pressed closely together.

Draco slowly began tracing kisses down her neck as her breathing began getting more ragged. Her hands were clutched in his hair, pulling at the beautiful blonde strands as his lips found a familiar spot on her throat. Before she could catch herself she moaned rather loudly, this did nothing but encourage him as he lifted her up against the wall pressing himself harder against her. He removed his head from the crook of her neck and regarded her with a superior gaze.

"What would Weasley do if he knew you were in love with a Slytherin?" He asked mockingly, letting his lips graze hers. She shivered beneath his ministrations.

"This is hardly love, Malfoy" She almost growled as she roughly grabbed the back of his head and crushed her lips onto his so hard she was sure they would bruise.

hr

It was actually happening, Harry thought to himself, this was happening and it was real, there was a body in the casket in front of him to prove it. Hermione Granger, his best friend since first year, his confidant, his voice of reasoning was dead. He felt a warm hand place itself in his own and squeeze it so tightly he almost yanked it away until he looked over and saw Ginny. She was fighting so hard against her tears that her entire frame was shaking. He hurriedly grabbed her and pulled her to him as she released everything she had been holding in sobbing openly into his chest. Kissing the top of her head he held her tightly as he scanned the rest of his surroundings.

They had chosen to keep the service small, of course. She would have wanted it that way. Harry cringed when he saw the grief-stricken Grangers approach the casket. Jane, Hermione's mother covered her mouth with her hand when she stared down at her daughter lying lifeless before her. She choked back sobs as she smoothed back Hermione's hair and place a feather light kiss on her forehead. Then she turned around and slowly made her way back to her seat. Mr. Granger held onto her arm, trying to comfort his wife, but still not able to cease his own tears from pouring.

Ron came and took his place next to Harry, his face completely void of any emotion. It was to be expected that Ron would be distraught, he had, after all,been love with Hermione since second year. Though they had only been officially together only for a year or so, they were… well they were Ron and Hermione, they just belonged together. Ron's demeanor had been leaning more towards frightening, rather than grieving boyfriend. But as soon as Harry was going to ask him how he was holding up Dumbledore stood up to begin the Ceremony

hr

"You know I hate it when you smoke."

Draco looked away from the Black Lake to the cloaked figure of Hermione that stood in the darkness behind him and then to the glowing cigarette in his hand. He looked taken aback by her words, that type of talk was dangerous territory. They were always so careful what they said, neither wanting to be the one that blurred the line between love and sex, and that comment, that comment was borderlining on caring.

Hermione obviously saw his slightly concerned look and decided to elaborate.

"You think I like being able to taste nothing but ashtray whenever you're snogging me senseless? It really detracts from the whole effect, you know." She was looking down at him over her nose again, her hair moving in the slight breeze blowing around them. He could tell she was wearing that horrible gold and red scarf, but everything looked black and white in the moonlight, like an old movie. Except for he was the villain and she was the valiant heroine, by any means of convention he should probably be tying her to train tracks or something.

"So that's why you're here? Another go in the woods then?" He drawled out seductively as he took his final drag of the cigarette and stubbed it on the ground near his feet. Shifting his weight to his hands he lifted himself off the ground and dusted himself off before turning to regard the girl before him.

"Well, you weren't in the Common Room….or in your room, so I figured I would come look for you." She said trying to sound matter-of-fact. Draco's face suddenly became stern as he moved closer to her. He lifted his arms as if he was about to grab her shoulders but seemed to reconsider, letting one hang awkwardly at his side and pointing at her accusingly with the other.

"Don't you dare do it Granger. Don't you dare start getting concerned about me. Do you hear me?" Hermione only glared at him as the wind began to pick up around them. She could still smell the tobacco smoke on his breath as he continued his diatribe.

"This can't turn into more than it is now, because the second it does, that's when it starts getting dangerous." His eyes softened as he looked into hers, and she wondered really just who he was trying to convince.

hr

No one noticed him standing there in the shadows of the side aisles of the church. Even if they did, they wouldn't recognize him. He had used a glamour charm on his hair, turning his usual sleek silver-blonde strands into a bushy mess that fell in a maelstrom of black curls all around his face. His usually translucently pale skin was replace with a deep olivey-tone, very Eastern-European. He scratched his chin, still finding the sensation of thick stubble quite unpleasant but he couldn't risk being seen. Not here.

They were all weeping for her, he could see poor Luna Lovegood's usual spacey glaze replaced with tears of anguish, and Longbottom sitting next to her chin determinedly set as he tried to combat his grief. And of course there was the rest of the little Gryffindor Dream Team sitting in the front row with the Grangers. He couldn't see Harry's face because it was buried in the sobbing Ginny Weasley's hair, obviously trying to comfort her. He spotted the rest of the Weasley clan sat behind them taking up an entire pew in all their red-headed freckled glory. Molly Weasley sniffled profusely, Arthur handed her a small light blue hankerchief and the sound of her blowing her nose echoed through out church. Fred and George sat in silence as they listened to Dumbledore's eulogy, both trying hopelessly to think of something anything to say to Ron. Deciding against trying to comfort him with workds, Fred reached out a hand and placed it on his younger brothers shoulder.

Unlike all the others, Ron did not seem grief-stricken, he wasn't doubled over head in his hands bawling away like everyone expected he should be. No, he was the utter definition of stoic. He sat there, spine erect, trying so hard to maintain his composure. But when he felt the hand on his shoulder he couldn't pretend anymore. His shoulders slumped and he bowed his head as all of his anger poured from him.

Draco couldn't keep himself from smirking, he wasn't particularly enjoying seeing everyone so torn up over Granger, but he still felt a sort of sense of accomplishment. Damn, he was almost proud of himself for causing all of this. Sure he had always been somewhat of a trouble maker, of sorts. But this, well… he had outdone himself with this one.

He stayed in the shadows until the ceremony ended, enjoying ever bit of it, soaking up all of the anguish and tears like it was sunshine. But, as the male Weasleys and Harry moved towards the front of the church to carry the casket away he stepped out of the side aisle and into the path of the Hermione's parents, who were filing outside.

Mrs. Granger was still sobbing, her ice blue eyes red and puffy as a result. He noticed the woman's mass of curly hair and almost laughed at the striking similarity to the girl that now lay in the coffin being carried from them. Mr. Granger, who had not let go of his wife's arm through the entire ceremony curtly nodded at Draco and made a motion to walk pass him, but Draco halted him.

"Jane and Henry Granger," he said to them respectively, "We have a lot to discuss."

**A/N:** So in light of Deathly Hallows, THANKS JK ROWLING FOR KILLING MY SHIP.! Thanks for making this fic officially AU, and thank you for ruining Draco's beautiful head of hair. Oh and SCORPIUS? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

As always: REVIEW POR FAVOR!


	3. The World's Not Waiting

**Fall Short of Certainty**

**Ch.3- The World's Not Waiting**

A/N: Big thanks to my beta-reader/e-girlfriend (BHAHAHAHAHA;) ) Heathen Respite., who actually also pointed out my big dumb mistake in the last chapter. Luna Lovegood is a Ravenclaw, but apparently my subconscious wants to make her a Hufflepuff? italics denotes flashbacks

_They were a tangle of arms and legs, splayed across their common room floor, neither daring to move. It was always like this afterwards, after their animalistic grunts and screams and moans subsided, leaving them in a sort of peaceful stillness. Hermione always hated it because these quiet periods allowed her conscious to catch up with her. It was times like this she wished she could turn off her brain, just cut the power to all her rational thinking, like Draco did. She could hear his steady even breathing and wondered if he had fallen asleep, but just as she was about to get up she felt an arm snake about her waist._

_"You missed the bed again, Granger," he said playfully. The heat of his breath on her shoulder sent delicious shivers up her spine._

_"Oh please, Malfoy," she said disdainfully as she jerked herself away from him and began to gather her clothing that was strewn around the room._

_"You say that as if it's my fault." Draco replied, the ever-present Malfoy smirk on his face. He laced his fingers behind his head and watched Hermione's every move as her naked form waltzed about the room looking for her missing articles of clothing._

_"Oh, but it is your fault!" She said matter-of-factly, pulling her knickers on over her hips. "You - are just… you just… It's YOUR fault." _

_"Wow, aren't we articulate today?" He quirked an eyebrow and smiled smugly to himself._

"_Honestly, I must have been amazing! You can't even formulate a sentence!" he laughed proudly and gave a languid cat-like stretch before slowly standing up and heading towards the heads' shower, pausing before he got there to throw on his boxers that he retrieved from a nearby lampshade._

_Hermione was fuming, he ALWAYS had to ruin it, didn't he? Well, this time, this was the last time. She couldn't allow this to go on, but then of course, she always said that._

_"Here's your shirt." She heard him say as he tossed the red and gold fabric her way half-heartedly. Her body froze as she looked down at what he had tossed her. Divine Providence really had a way of smacking you in the head sometimes. She ran her fingers over the gold stitched letters on the back of the shirt that read: 'WEASLEY'._

_It was Ron's Quidditch shirt from sixth year. Ron, her boyfriend, the one she had confounded McLaggen for, the one she sicked wild canaries on, the one who had been with her since her first day at Hogwarts. She was suddenly overcome with a wave a guilt, so large she thought she just might be sick._

_"MALFOY!" she screamed right as he was entering the bathroom. He turned around suddenly upon hearing her scream his name so fiercely. Regarding her with an agitated look, he glanced at the shirt in her hands. A look of comprehension made its way over his features and he knew just what she was trying to do._

_"No, Granger." He said simply shaking his head._

_Hermione just glared at him in confusion, tears of frustration gathering in her eyes. He was slightly taken aback by the idea of a crying Granger – now how the hell was he going to handle that? He supposed the right thing to do would be to be all gentlemanly and comforting, say some soothing nonsense like "Shh, love, I hate to see you cry" or something equally cheesy and Hufflepuff-y like that. But the truth was, he found that he didn't hate it, nor did he feel the slightest bit of obligation to even attempt to be compassionate – the truth was, he reveled in it._

_"You don't even know what I was going to say!" Granger squealed, almost child-like in her rage._

_"Yes I did, and the answer is no. This is not over, what we have going on between us…whatever the hell it is." _

_He wasn't sure why he didn't just let her end it. It had obviously gone on longer than he had intended. The initial plan was to just fuck the girl and be on with it, but something always gave way, there was always another go, always a one more, always a next time._

_"Don't you even feel bad, don't you have ANY sort of remorse? You're banging a mudblood! You're betraying your wonderful pureblooded girlfriend! What if your parents found out, wouldn't you be ashamed of even touching me?" She yelled sarcastically._

_Draco just smirked at her._

_"Granger, I'm a Slytherin. We don't come with a conscience." And with that he slammed the bathroom door in her face._

"Everything seems to be looking up then, eh?"

"Definitely, with our spies in the Ministry, it won't be long till it falls."

"Good, Good… what about the Order?"

Draco was sitting at a dark bar in Knockturn Alley, surreptitiously listening to a pair of higher ranking Death Eaters (one of whom he recognized to be Nott the other he didn't know) seated in a booth behind him. They obviously hadn't recognized him – otherwise he was sure they'd have a thing or two to say to him about the recent battle…among other things.

It was probably because of all the bloody smoke in the place, he mused to himself. Ever since he had quit, the smell of it repulsed him, but it wasn't like he could just go waltzing into the Leaky Cauldron anytime he wanted to. He subconsciously pulled the hood on his cloak over his head, further obscuring his face from view.

"We're closing in on Potter." He heard Nott say. Draco rolled his eyes. They'd been 'closing in on Potter' for the past four years, he didn't see how it would be any different now. The boy – well, man now – had evaded Voldemort more times than anyone could count, and though most of them had simply been sheer luck, it was still infuriating. He heard the Death Eater accompanying Nott cough lightly, almost scoffing. Apparently he shared Draco's sentiment.

"I'd be careful with that kind of attitude if I were you," Nott growled with more than a little admonition in his voice. "Besides, now he's without one of his precious little body guards."

"Ah, the Granger girl, the mudblood."

Draco found that with those few words they suddenly held his rapt attention.

"Exactly, the annoying one. Done in by the littlest Malfoy," Nott said smugly. Apparently they did not appreciate the idea of someone as young as Draco being the one to kill such an important member of the light side. His grip tightened on his glass of firewhiskey as he heard the man with Nott laugh heartily.

"I heard he did a little more than do the girl in."

There was a long silence, and when Nott spoke again his tone had changed completely.

"You'd be better to forget you ever heard that. Since Draco killed Potter's little girlfriend off, the Malfoys have fallen back into the Dark Lord's graces, and in a big way. So I'd watch where I went running my mouth to about these rumors. It was a mistake – he's just a boy after all." That latter part of the diatribe was spoken so condescendingly it was all Draco could do to hold himself back from Crucio-ing the life out of the elder Death Eater right there.

"Besides," he continued. "He took care of it." They both laughed loudly at this statement and Draco decided he would hear no more of it. He threw a few sickles down onto the counter and stood up to leave.

"Of course he took care of it – the Malfoys always clean up after themselves!" was the last thing he heard before he stormed out of the bar, his long black cloak swishing around him

The streets of Knockturn Alley were dark and dirty. Draco never understood why the Dark side had to be so bloody….dingy. It was relatively quiet, all of the hooded figures walking down the sidewalk silently, some muttering under their breaths. His pace quickened and he thankfully expelled a sigh of relief upon entering the bright and bustling world of Diagon Alley.

He reached upwards and removed the hood revealing his signature head of hair. Though he would prefer not to be seen, he reasoned that keeping the cloak about him would do nothing but make him stand out. Besides, as Dumbledore had said, the Weasel had nothing on him. No one could prove anything, he was still nothing but a suspected Death Eater and free of the Dark Mark. So it was with confidence he sauntered down the streets of Diagon Alley. That was, until he heard the sound of footsteps and a very fierce female growl from behind him.

"Malfoy….."

Draco cringed and halted, cursing beneath his breath. Of course he would run into _someone._ Whoever or whatever it was up there controlling things really had it out for him, he was convinced. Smirking, he slowly turned to face the one person he had wanted to avoid above all others.

_Gryffindor had just beaten the bloody tar out of Slytherin. Her heart had been slamming against her ribcage so hard she thought it would crack through out the entire match. She had kept her gaze locked on the green blur of Draco Malfoy, and she gasped as he jerked his broom towards her his eyes fixed on a spot right in front of her. Hermione followed his line of vision and there she saw the snitch, darting around like an insect right in front of the Gryffindor stands. He bent down on his broom his brows furrowing in concentration keeping his eyes locked on the tiny gold prize as the reaction from the stands echoed in her ears. Reaching out a hand she saw him smile. Not smirk, but smile. A big giant grin cracked the cold Malfoy exterior; he looked like a kid again, beaming proudly as he sped towards his goal. And in that moment, she was happy for him. She wanted more than anything to see Draco Malfoy catch that snitch, to see him beat her house and be carted off on the shoulders of his teammates. that ridiculous smile still plastered on his beautiful face. _

_But just as Draco was about to wrap his fingers around his small prize and claim his victory, Harry was there. Hermione hadn't seen it happen, she had been transfixed on the Slytherin seeker, but before she knew it the snitch was in Harry's hands. For a brief second, everything was silent. It was as if the world had ceased rotating on it's axis, everything simply stopped. And in that moment she saw that wonderful smile drain from Draco's face to be replaced by a look of sheer agony. Never had she seen him look so broken as he stared at the small golden ball now being gripped in the hand of his enemy. _

_Then time started again and the stands exploded with cheers. She saw Malfoy's usual cold arrogant façade return as he sneered at Harry before turning his broom around and speeding back to the Slytherin locker rooms. Neville was clinging to her arm so hard she thought that he would rip it right out of the socket as he yelled to his friends, now flying their victory lap around the pitch with the rest of the team. The stands were shaking with the force of all her house mates jumping up and down, the force of it vibrating up her legs, shaking her entire being. The sound of the triumphant roar coming from all around her was deafening but, all Hermione could hear was the blood pumping in her ears as she stood there, motionless amidst all the chaos, watching the retreating back of the Slytherin seeker. _

"_You okay Hermione?" she heard Neville ask from beside her. She simply nodded in return, her eyes still locked on the faint green form growing smaller in the distance. Shaking her head, she turned to Neville, putting a huge grin on her face._

"_WE WON!" She screamed convincingly as she mimicked Neville's overflowing excitement and started jumping up and down joyously. The cheering in the crowd grew louder as the team flew by the stands again. Suddenly, Hermione spotted Ron's fiery red head of hair separating from the group of his teammates and flew - actually the more appropriate word would be ''careened'' - towards the stands. Her hand flew to her mouth as he jumped off his broom and sped towards the crowd ignoring their cheers and hands clapping his back, making his way over to Hermione. She was smiling, thrown but still amused by Ron's actions. When he finally found her, he stopped in his tracks staring down at the girl with the biggest, goofiest grin she'd ever seen plastered on his face._

"_Well, Ronald that was quite the…" But he silenced her by pulling her into the most smoldering kiss he'd ever given her. That moment solidified it for Hermione. She was more than happy with her boyfriend, he was perfect. She loved Ronald Weasley._

_So why in the bloody hell was she sneaking into the Slytherin locker rooms to see Draco, she thought to herself as she skirted past the Gryffindor lockers, cheers still emanating from inside. God, this was just sick, she should be in there celebrating with them. She should be in there snogging her damn boyfriend. Maybe it was that look on Malfoy's face, when he realized that he'd lost, that Harry had once again snatched victory away from him, right from under his nose. He had looked so pitiful, so heart-broken, she had just wanted to grab him and…_

"_Granger, what the fuck are you doing here?" She heard a voice from a dark shadowy area of the room she had just entered. She closed the door behind her and looked at him. He still in his quidditch gear, knees drawn to his chest sitting in the corner. Suddenly, she felt stupid for even being there, she didn't know what to say to him, she never did when he was angry. And this time, he was very, very angry._

"_Why are you sitting in the dark?" she asked, and immediately regretted it._

"_Because it hadn't really occurred to me to turn on the lights," he scoffed sarcastically as he ran both of his hands through his hair. He let his head rest in his palms for a second before looking up at Hermione.  
_

"_Go away, Granger. Just go celebrate with the rest of your kind." _

_Her kind. She was beginning to doubt if they were her kind. There was absolutely nothing even slightly Gryffindor about her actions as of late._

"_Honestly Malfoy, It's just a stupid quidditch match. All of you boys take this so ser-" _

"_SHUT UP! Don't come in here and patronize me!" he screamed angrily as he scrambled to his feet. Her feet stayed planted to their spot stubbornly as he stood in front of her threateningly. She jutted her chin out proudly, defiantly, staring up at him, her eyes thinning, daring him to hit her. But instead, his face softened, defeated._

"_Why are you here?" he asked dejected, his voice almost barely audible. Hermione was taken aback by his sudden change in disposition. There she was expecting a blow to the face, a la third year, but instead she was getting a close-up view of the expression that had twisted her guts inside out on the quidditch pitch. She could feel her composure slipping as she stared into his stormy grey eyes._

"_I just… I saw you out there… after Harry… and you just looked like a little boy whose dog just got run over by a car… and.." She looked at him and noticed the confusion on his face. Merlin, she hated him, she loathed him. He was everything she was supposed to hate, arrogant, close-minded, vile, and... absolutely irresistible._

"_What's a ca-" But his voice trailed off as she took his face into her small hands and stared at him. She seemed to be inspecting his face, raking her eyes over every bump and crevice of his features. Then she kissed him, not the usual frantic crushing lips on lips and rushed ripping off of clothes they were accustomed to. This time, it was different – this was a delicate brushing of lips, a soft gentle pressure against his. He reached up tentatively, grabbing a hand full of curls, pulling her closer to him. This was so odd, so completely new. They were like two little first-years, kissing for the first time, hesitant and nervous. _

_Draco felt a pull in his chest and he suddenly pushed her away, rather roughly, and she gasped, confused, staring up at him._

"_Granger. This… is not smart," he said as he regarded her. She knew exactly what he meant. They weren't supposed to do tender. It was one of their rules – they were brutal with each other, because that was who they were. But at this point in time, she didn't give a damn._

"_I know," she replied breathlessly and pulled him back to her, crashing her lips on his. She grabbed a small handful of his hair as she moaned into the kiss. His hands tracing lightly down her back until he wrapped his arms tightly around her, lifting her slightly from the ground. She gripped the side of his face as he nibbled slightly on her bottom lip before sucking at the swollen flesh. _

_Hermione was completely and utterly convinced that this was what was meant by the phrase "thoroughly snogged". Every single one of her nerve endings were singing in pleasure. Merlin's beard, she could barely even think._

_Suddenly a loud noise came from behind Hermione's back in the direction of the door. The two broke apart as if the other was on fire. Hermione glanced at the shocked look on Draco's face and was terrified to turn around and see who was standing at the door._

_They'd been caught. They'd actually been caught. Well of course, it was bound to happen they both knew it, but neither one of them thought that it actually would. God, they were so stupid to think that they could be invincible. A million different scenarios flashed through her head as she slowly turned to face the intruder. What if it was Harry? Or… oh Merlin, what if it was Ron? With that thought, her blood ran cold. If it was, her world as she knew it was about to come crashing down around her._

"What do you want She-Weasel?" Draco growled as he came face to face with a furious Ginny Weasley.

"Did you do it?" she asked, grabbing his robes and pulling him towards her in a surprisingly violent manner. The look on her face was absolutely terrifying even to Draco. He knew that the youngest Weasley always was a bit of a loose canon, just like her brother, and he knew better than to push her buttons. So of course, that was just what he did.

Draco smirked, hiding his nervousness.

"Did I do what, exactly. You're going to have to learn to be more specific Weasley," he sneered, enjoying watching her fume. Of course he knew what she was talking about, and there was no way in hell he was going to tell her anything. Before he knew it he felt himself being dragged into the small space in between the two shops he was walking by before she had seen him. Several on lookers were watching her like she was mad, and Draco admitted it probably was a sight to see; the tiny Weasley girl pushing around his 6'1" frame. She pushed him roughly up against the wall causing him to slam his head on the hard concrete behind him.

"Did you kill, Hermione!? Did you?!" she screamed at him. He only stared at her in disbelief rubbing the back of his head where it had smacked against the brick. His gaze held hers steadily as she glared daggers at him, daring him to try to get away. But suddenly, he started laughing. He had actually looked her straight in the eyes and burst into hysterical laughter.

Now she was really mad.

"Now really, do you think if I did, I would tell you?" he scoffed, looking at her as if she had just sprouted an extra head. Ginny looked at him and placed a hand on her hip, the other jabbing into his chest.

"Draco Malfoy, I saw you two together. I saw you with my own two eyes that time after the Quidditch match, and I swear to Merlin if you killed her to cover your tracks, to hide the fact you were ever with a muggleborn, I will not rest until you are in Azkaban rotting away with the rest of your pathetic Death Eater friends."

He knew she was serious, there was no doubt about that. The Weasleys were not the brightest or the most well off, but they were fiercely loyal and with tempers that could rival his father's. Both of these traits meant bad news for Draco and he would not be stupid enough to forget it.

"Oh really, and how do you plan on getting me 'thrown into Azkaban with my death eater friends'? What are you going to do? Tell the big bad Scrimgeour on me? Like he would believe a bunch of little twats like you. And even if he did, what kind of sway does he hold anyway?"

"Harry's already an Auror, and it won't be long until Ron is too, " She paused to look at his face, seeing if that last statement had garnered any kind of reaction. When he remained stoic she continued. "and don't you dare think that this is over Malfoy. Ron won't rest until he sees your soul ripped out of your body by the dementors." she seethed, and with one final push against his chest, causing him to bang his head – _again_ – she turned around and left the alley, leaving him still pressed up against the wall.

He let out a breath he didn't know that he was holding as he watched the petite redhead's retreating form. So Weasley's going to be an auror. Draco couldn't help but wonder if he had hand anything to do with that decision.

He inhaled deeply, and exhaled again trying to collect his thoughts. Those were not just idle threats. Ginny Weasely, -or more appropriately the whole bloody Weasley clan- meant business. Hermione's death was not something that was going to be easily forgotten, not that he had expected it to be. How was Golden Boy Potter's best friend to be forgotten and put aside as just another casualty? Draco sighed and put his head in his hands.

This was going to be a lot harder than they had thought.

A/N: There you have Chapter 2! Ta-da! This chapter gave me the biggest damn headache ever. But hopefully Chapter 3 will go smoother. As always leave me a review and let me know what you think? I know it could be getting a little confusing All questions will be answered in due time I promise, but I would totally be interested in hearing your theories!!


	4. Sometimes the Line Walks You

**Fall Short of Certainty **

_Ch.3 Sometimes the Line Walks You_

"Tell me again, Ginny, tell me _exactly_ what he said."

"Dammit Ron, we've went over this at least twelve times in the past hour, let it rest," moaned Ginny from her spot on the overstuffed couch, her words slightly muffled as she situated herself deeper in the crook of Harry's arm. The three of them were sitting in the comfortable and homey disarray of the Burrow, the light from the fireplace illuminating the otherwise dark room.

"Are you sure you didn't forget anything? There must have been something else that he said," Ron persisted as he shuffled through the pieces of parchment scattered around him on the floor. He had been collecting any bit of evidence he could on Malfoy, scrounging for something, anything that would somehow lead him to prove that he was Hermione's killer. Though he did realize what evidence he had was scant, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Malfoy was to be blamed – he felt it in his bones. He didn't care if no one else believed him, he wanted to see that pure-blooded bastard taken down, beaten. With every fiber of his being he wanted Malfoy stripped of all of his arrogant power and broken before him.

"Listen Ron, maybe you should take it easy for awhile," Harry said, lifting his head tiredly up from his shoulder as he surveyed his best friend. He had visibly gotten skinnier over the two weeks since Hermione's death. Harry supposed that this was due to the fact that his usually voracious appetite had subsided. Despite his mother's attempts at soothing his grief in the only way she knew how – by trying to stuff food down his throat – he still ate very little. Every night was the same – his plate would sit at his unoccupied spot at the table getting cold until Mrs Weasley would half-heartedly Vanish it, sighing worriedly. His skin had taken on a sick Snape-like sallowness and his eyes were sunken due to lack of sleep. Even his usually bright and lively hair had become limp and lackluster.

"Yeah, lay off for a bit," Ginny chimed in agreement, as she stretched out her long slender legs onto the couch, letting her head drop from Harry's shoulder to his lap. Harry stared down at the girl beneath him, a slow lazy smile playing on his face. He tore his gaze from Ginny to regard the other redhead in the room. Ron observed the couple despondently. Harry took note of Ron's agonized look and gave himself a good solid mental beating for being so daft. He couldn't be like this with Ginny, at least not while Ron was around, it was perfectly awful of him to flaunt his relationship. But Ron didn't seemed to notice as Harry slowly pushed Ginny away from him. It wasn't long before that Hermione and himself had been in much the same position his sister and best mate were in. Curled up together like two inter-locking pieces to a jigsaw puzzle.

Merlin, he missed her. He missed watching her read, he missed the way her nose would crinkle in distaste when he talked about Quidditch, he missed the way she looked underneath him, her mess of curls splayed out all around her. He missed her kisses and the way she smelled and that fierce look in her eyes she got when he upset her, the way her gorgeous amber-colored orbs would spark with a rage no mortal man could conquer. She was all he could bloody think about and it was driving him very close to the brink of insanity.

He sighed and shook his head, exhausted.

"Ginny, just one more time. Just go over it one more time," he asked his sister, all the previous exasperation gone from his voice, replaced with a more pleading, almost desperate tone.

"Please, Gin?"

His sister looked at him, wishing there was something that Malfoy had said to her, something that he had done that would have given them the slightest bit of proof that he was the culprit, just so she wouldn't have to see that look on Ron's face again for as long as she lived. He wasn't her brother anymore, he was merely more than a ghost of his former jovial self.

"All right, but just this one last time," she agreed in defeat and crinkled her nose in mock-disgust, "then you have to go take a bath."

"As long as you make sure you tell me everything," Ron said, absent-mindedly reaching for a blank piece of parchment. Ginny sighed. She would tell him as much as she could, but she was sure there were things about his dead fiancée he would be better off not knowing.

_Draco scowled as he watched Hermione and her filthy blood traitor boyfriend slip and slide their way clumsily down the treacherous hillside towards the Black Lake. Every now and then he could see her trip over the end of her robes or slip in the freshly fallen clean white snow, and each and every time the stupid sodding Weasel was right there to pick her up, like the bloody chivalrous Gryffindor he was. _

_How dare he fucking touch her, how dare he lay one filthy finger on one of Draco's belongings. Yes, that's what Hermione was to him, a belonging. He_ owned_ her, each and every little delicious mudblood bit of her. She was one of his damn possessions, and Draco, true to his Malfoy name, would rather denounce his precious pure-blooded family tree than share something that was his._

_He could discern her light tinkling laugh above the gusting wind. It filled his ears, stampeding its way into his brain and invaded his senses like a parasite. Maybe that was the reason his feet started moving, almost of their own volition, after the couple. He stared down at his expensive black leather boots as he wove his way down the slippery and rock-strewn trail, almost disbelieving of his own actions. _

_What the hell was he doing? Going after Granger of all people? And what for? To snatch her way from her ridiculous boyfriend and fuck her brains out? That was all she was good for, right? _

_Merlin, if he was really that horny he could just go find Pansy – Salazar only knew how willing she'd be to have a go with him. Even if it was just to please her parents, even if he knew she'd rather be with his best mate Zabini, it was still sex. And it wasn't as if she didn't know what she was doing either. No, Pansy could definitely make him writhe in pleasurable ecstasy but Granger... that Mudblood was an entirely different story. While she wasn't nearly as talented, she was venomously addictive. She wouldn't go away, like a sore on the inside of your mouth that would heal if you could only stop tonguing it._

_Draco reasoned it was the fact that he was in love with the feeling he got after he had mercilessly fucked the Gryffindor out of her. He felt evil, like he had corrupted something, even though he was highly aware of the vomit-inducing thought that Weasley had taken care of her 'innocence' before he had even gotten to her. _

_Nevertheless, Draco still considered her to be somewhat akin to a precious valuable, like his mother's china, placed high up on a shelf out of his reach, so as not to be broken by his childishness. She was like a new set of robes, spotless and well-fitting, the kind you wouldn't want to wear just so they would stay as they were, new and unspoiled. The only difference was, he wasn't careful with her. He ruined her, he broke her, he took her from the lofty safety of her shelf and smashed her to pieces, cherishing every second of it._

_The couple had disappeared behind a large tree close to the edge of the lake, but Draco continued walking. His feet kept up their traitorous actions, moving, one in front of the other, at a rapidly growing pace. It was ridiculous. Completely and undeniably ridiculous. _

_Deep down in his gut, he could not stand the thought of the Weasley bastard with her. His head swam with images of that redheaded git running his hands over her curves, leaning her up against that very tree, unfastening her robes, nibbling on her ear. Draco couldn't help but wonder if the Weasel-bee knew her body like __**he **__did. If he knew the exact spot on her neck that would send her into a frenzy, throwing her head back and moaning like there was no tomorrow. If he knew how it felt to grab handfuls of that luscious exorbitant mess of hair piled on top her her head and feel his fingers snare in all of tangles. He wondered if he had ever noticed her freckles, those barely-there constellations on her clavicles._

"_Fuck!" he whispered violently as a tight ball of anger began solidifying itself in his chest. He was furious, with Weasley, with Granger, and with himself for even giving a shit. _

_He finally reached the tree and gave it a good solid kick before making his way around it to the couple's little hiding spot. When he did, he was greeted by a large mass of black fabric. In the dark, he couldn't even tell where Ron ended and Hermione began._

"_Well, if it isn't our Head Girl. Taking the night off are we Granger?" he sneered, in his best guise of nonchalance. Upon the sound of his voice, the two broke apart like someone had just poured scalding hot water on them. Hermione looked at him, momentarily petrified. She stared up at Draco in disbelief, her jaw hanging slightly agape, brown eyes wide. He couldn't be quite sure in the dark, but he thought he saw a slight blush creeping up her face. His only response was a haughty smirk gracing his pale features._

"_What in the bloody hell are you doing here Malfoy?" Ron bellowed as he hastily scrambled to his feet to stand in front of Malfoy, blocking his view of Hermione. Draco only crossed his arms and regarded the flushed redhead before him with a superior gaze._

"_You're out past curfew, Weasel," he said simply, his gaze similar to one he would give something stuck to the underside of his boot. Pushing past Ron, Draco looked down at Hermione who had slammed her head back against the trunk of the tree and looking up at him, smiling sadistically._

"_No really Malfoy, what are you doing here? Not getting enough from the Slytherin girls so you decided to turn into a voyeur? That's just sad." The smirk that spread across her face rivaled his._

"_I think _you_ know good and well that I get more than enough," he said threateningly taking a step towards her. The next time he spoke, his voice had lowered to a barely audibly murmur, but what it lacked in volume, it made up for in its intensity "And not just from _Slytherin_ girls." _

_His next move to advance on the Head Girl was halted by a firm hand on his shoulder. He spun on the spot to find himself face-to-face with Ron. The boy had most definitely grown, he was a good two inches taller than Draco, and though he was rather lanky, there was no doubt in Draco's mind that he was strong. Not that he was scared of him really, he knew better than that._

"_Don't you dare fucking touch her," the fiery-haired Gryffindor growled to him. The irony of the statement was not lost on Draco. Wasn't he just thinking the very same thing about Weasley?_

"_First of all Weasley, don't ever think that you can get off ordering me around," Draco retorted, leaning in towards him menacingly. "Second of all, if I wanted to touch your filthy girlfriend, I wouldn't have to ask for _your_ permission." He paused when he heard a snort of disgust from Hermione behind him._

"_And lastly, like I said, you're out past curfew. Ten points from Gryffindor, now head back to your common room," he finished, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his tone of voice almost listless._

_Ron's fists clenched by his sides and he ground his teeth together. Malfoy was annoying, but Malfoy on a power trip was infuriating. He could feel his face growing hot as his eyes narrowed onto the blond-haired arrogant Head Boy before him. Hermione must have noticed his apparent rage and took it upon herself to come between the two testosterone-driven men._

"_He's right Ron, we need to be heading back up to the castle, you can walk me to my – "_

"_No, no Granger. We have rounds to make," Draco interrupted Hermione's sensible attempt to intervene in whatever disagreement might occur. The glare she shot at him almost made him cringe. It said, clearly and unmistakably, 'what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?' She knew good and well they didn't make rounds by the Black Lake after curfew, but Ron apparently didn't. _

_He looked defeated (he had learned long before that there was little he could do to stand between Hermione and her duties as Head Girl) and it nearly broke her heatr. All she had wanted to do was to spend time with her boyfriend... _

_No, that was a lie, she _knew _that was a lie. _

_Her guilt was beginning to relentlessly gnaw at her, tearing at her nerves until she could barely think straight. She had suggested a midnight trip down to the Black Lake to Ron to make herself feel better, but that simple fact did little more than make her feel worse. She searched Ron's gaze, trying to find any shred of the previous happiness they held._

"_Ron, it's just Heads business, I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast," she said reassuringly as she reached out a hand and let it rest on the back of his neck, feeling the tips of his hair graze her knuckles. He didn't reply, just gave her a sad half-grin, shifted his eyes downward and turned to head back to the castle. Hermione watched his retreating form, that familiar gnawing in her gut growing more and more intense with every step he took. She exhaled a long defeated sigh and fisted both of her hands in her own hair out of sheer frustration. _

_Why were things getting so bloody complicated?_

_A slight arrogant chuckle from behind her reminded her of Malfoy's presence. She spun angrily on her heel and turned to face him._

"_WHAT are you doing following me around!?" she screeched as she took a step towards him. Her fingers were twitching as she fought back the urge to hex him into oblivion._

"_What were you doing creeping around past curfew with Saint Potter's sidekick?" he answered, a slight teasing tone to his voice. He matched her movements and took a step in her direction, leaving them inches a part. Merlin's pants, he'd dug himself another hole again. Now, he had Granger to himself, but she was seething and would just as soon Crucio him then lay a single hand on him._

"_Saint Potter's sidekick? In case you haven't noticed, you self-absorbed selfish piece of Slytherin shit, he's my boyfriend." The words sounded artificial even to her._

"_Your _boyfriend_? Does your _boyfriend_ know about your secret fetish for Death Eaters?" Malfoy scoffed, feeling the blood rush to his face as his anger and frustration mounted._

"_I do not have any kind of fetish for…" Hermione couldn't even finish the sentence as she stared into the stormy grey eyes before her. Her breath quickened as his words sunk into her. _

_Death Eater. _

_Had he just admitted to her that he was a Death Eater? Surely he was just blowing things out of proportion, just to prove his point. As quickly as her confusion struck her it subsided and her fury returned tenfold._

"_I'M TIRED OF YOUR GAMES!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, her fists clenched by her side, her entire frame shaking with rage. Feeling the beginning of tears of anger and frustration building in the corners of her eyes, she gritted her teeth, fighting back any sort of emotion welling up inside of her._

"My_ games?!" Malfoy shot a sardonic look up to the star-filled sky, a small laughing emanating from him._

"_Granger, I'm not the one sleeping with the enemy, then pretending to be the innocent Gryffindor Princess in love with the endearingly dim-witted Weasel. I'm not the one leading this sick masochistic double-life, pretending that you don't enjoy every second you spend underneath me." He was in her face now, taking a step forward with every accusing statement he made, backing her towards the tree. _

_Merlin knew he should have stopped there, maybe lean forward and hiss a few vile things into her ear and take her right there against the very tree she had just been with her _boyfriend_ not ten minutes earlier. But something about her faltering __façade__ of bravery and indifference just edged him on._

_He could break her, snap her like a twig with his words._

"_Admit that you love it," he whispered. "You love the danger, you love the freedom, you love defying everything they've ever thought of you. You've got a fixation on the dark, Granger, you just haven't acknowledged it yet."_

_He stared hard at her, taking in the beautifully forlorn expression on her face, tiny rivulets of her silent tears making their way down her flushed cheeks. Her chest was heaving underneath her thick cloaks and her breath, visible from the cold, was coming out in small raspy gasps for air. This was it, this was that exhilarating moment when she was smashed to pieces, every single bit of her Gryffindor haughtiness stripped away by him, leaving the intricately beautiful shattered Hermione Granger before him. He smirked, but it didn't come out as malicious as he would have liked._

"_We're not so different, you and I."_

_The words were barely out of his mouth before her hands were on his shoulders pushing him backwards with such surprising force he fell into the snow. He looked up at her in mild shock as she glared down at him._

"_Don't you ever say that! We're NOTHING alike! DO YOU HEAR ME? Nothing! We're…nothing…" Her words trailed off as she slowly took a step backwards, melting into the tree behind her as her gaze stayed steadily locked with Draco's. Her eyes were frantically searching his for something, but not even she knew what it was. Feeling the solid tree trunk behind her, she clung desperately to it. How did he do this to her, how did he always make her feel like this? The bark snagged on her cloak as she slid down the side of the trunk and collapsed on the ground._

_They stayed like that for awhile, both of them little heaps in the snow, neither caring if the cold was beginning to send every part of their bodies into a tingly numbness. They welcomed it. _

_Draco was the first to break the silence._

"_He's not good enough for you, you know? he said, shifting his cold grey eyes up to her. She looked unaffected by his words as she stared at the ground beside her. Suddenly shifting her eyes upward he saw that her gaze was glassy as she opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again._

"_You're not a Death Eater are you?" she finally said, the words whispered so softly, barely audible over the wind gently rustling around them. Draco felt the familiar twitch in his chest when he looked into her eyes and found them filled, not with anger, but with concern. _

_For him. _

_She was worried about _him

"_I don't know." He replied, and for the first time in his life, he really didn't._

_AN: _Hey guys! This will probably be my last installment in this fic for a couple of weeks or so due to going off to school and what not. And on top of that I've got a damn plot bunny harassing me day and night for a one-shot. So that should be out before Chapter 4! As always, be a lovely reader and drop a review.

As always thanks to my wonderful beta Heathen Respite, repairer of ridiculous grammar mistakes, spelling mishaps, canon errors, Brit slang, and all the muggle nonsense that tries to infiltrate my fic! (Like God.)


	5. Heart Cooks Brain

**AN: **_Sorry this update has taken so insanely long! It took me a bit to get adjusted to school. And I had a few prompt exchanges to wrap up. Due to the dmhgficexhange over at LJ. This will probably be put on a very very tiny miniscule hiatus until I finish my fic for the exchange. But I do appreciate those of you who are reading and reviewing (especially sweetenedx3insanity, you really have no idea how happy your reviews make me!) Without further ado I bring you beautiful ones Chp.4!_

**Fall Short of Certainty**

_Heart Cooks Brain_

The Ministry was in its usual maelstrom of activity as Ron made his way towards his office. In the past few weeks after he'd become an Auror, he had steadily moved up the ranks at breakneck speed, earning himself a respectable salary and of course, a hefty amount of work. Though everyone chalked his leap in importance to his associations with Harry Potter, Ron was actually quite good at what he did. But, it was also to be expected really.

The way Ron saw it, every Death Eater he incriminated into Azkaban, every roadblock they placed in the way for Voldemort, was a small bit of vengeance for Hermione. So that was how he lived, with his tiny victories, despite the nagging voice in the back of his mind, telling him over and over that she wouldn't want him living this way. But he always ignored it, burying himself in his work, his only joy stemming from the delirious screams of Voldemort's followers as he watched the Dementors rip away the essence of their miserable lives. And Ron watched - he watched every single one.

He ran his head over his newly shorn hair as he turned the corner towards his office. Staring down the long hallway he saw Neville Longbottom sitting right outside of his door, apparently awaiting his arrival.

"Neville?" Ron asked as he came upon his former housemate and fellow Auror. Neville had come into his own as a member of the fight against Voldemort, leaving behind his clumsy and nervous ways to transform into an incredibly powerful wizard, essential in every way to the Order. Upon hearing Ron's voice he quickly hopped up from his place by the door and straightened his robes. The redhead took notice of the plaintive look on Neville's face.

"What's going on?" he asked. Even after his short time in the Order, he knew such expressions meant a lot of things, none of them good.

Neville seemed to take a second, measuring his words carefully before speaking.

"Malfoy's gone..." he said slowly, knowing full and well the effect such news would have on Ron's temper. When his companion merely stared at him with a questioning look in his eyes, Neville felt his forgotten twitchy ways beginning to resurface as he began explaining rapidly.

"He's on the run... we suspect. His vault at Gringotts has been emptied and well he's... the Aurors we had following him... he seems to have just disappeared." He inhaled after his diatribe bracing himself for the fiery redhead's reaction to the news.

However, instead of the predictable Weasley rage that Neville had expected, a bright smile cracked Ron's now normally stoic features. Neville had begun to think that the previously boisterous and vivacious boy from Hogwarts he used to know had died along with Hermione, so he was slightly taken aback by the blatant, and sudden display of his old self.

"This is good news, Neville!" Ron cried as he clapped his fellow former Gryffindor on the back.

"What?" The word spilled out from Neville's lips as he stared dumbly at the other Auror, intricately confused.

Ron looked at him as if he had sprouted a baby Mandrake from his forehead.

"What do you mean 'what'?"

Neville shuffled on his feet nervously.

"I just thought you would have a... er, slightly different reaction."

Ron's laughter echoed down the hallway.

"Why would I?" he asked jovially as he looked to the ceiling victoriously.

"Neville, don't you see? This means he did it."

_He knew she was sitting in the common room - she always was after dinner. After finishing her usual dessert, (strawberries of course - only a sensible girl like Granger would consider fruit a dessert) she would excuse herself from the mongoloid chatter of Potter and Weasley and go back to the Head Suite._

_And that was where he found her, exactly as he had previously planned, as he pulled a giggling Pansy Parkinson through the portrait hole. Her bushy head shot up from whatever unnecessarily large textbook or Muggle novel she was reading with her long pale legs tucked delicately underneath her._

_"What are you looking at, Mudblood?" Pansy snarled at her. Hermione nonchalantly continued to read her book._

_"Really, Parkinson, I'm flattered by your endearing banter, but I'm trying to read."_

_Draco could see Pansy start to retaliate then quickly close her mouth, probably trying to figure out what the hell 'endearing' meant._

_"Don't bother, Pans," he said swiftly and ushered her towards his room, pausing momentarily to smirk at the petite Gryffindor in the armchair by his door. He wanted her to see this, he wanted her to feel that visceral feeling in her gut, the same one he had gotten when she was parading around with the Weasel - that sickening, heavy feeling like thunder rumbling through your chest. _

_It wasn't love, he knew that for sure, but it was still an emotion. And judging by the fleeting grimace he saw on Granger's face, she got it too._

_"Oh please, Granger. Don't give me that look. You couldn't possibly think you'd be enough for me?" he hissed at her, as soon as Pansy was out of earshot in his room, already beginning to disrobe. _

_Draco couldn't really pinpoint what inspired him to spit such venom at the feisty Gryffindor, but then again he was a Malfoy - callous, cold and unfeeling was ingrained into his DNA. Throw in the petty self-absorption he learned from his mother, and there you have it - a pretty well -rounded bastard._

_Ever since the last run-in he had with Granger down by the Black Lake, he had tried to keep his distance, avoiding her whenever possible, but it was simply getting impossible. He never noticed just how much he saw the girl. She was everywhere - in the library, classrooms, the Great Hall, even the common room reeked of her light citrus-smelling shampoo. So as a compromise, he came to the conclusion that the only way he would let himself be near her was if he was throwing some kind of verbal barb at her. He didn't need another heart wrenching emotional affair - that incident had hit entirely too close to home for comfort, which in his case, was already spare to begin with. _

_Hermione stared at him, almost flabbergasted by his words. Then the ever-present fire in her eyes roared to life as she gritted her teeth and sneered maliciously at him._

_"Gee, I wonder what would ever make me think that?" She put a finger to her chin in mock contemplation. "Just out of curiosity, do you follow Pansy on her late-night ventures with Blaise, or is that a privilege you reserve just for Mudbloods?"_

_She had effectively cornered Draco Malfoy. He stood in his doorway, mouth agape, staring daggers at her. She thought he was about to retort but instead of retaliation he simply turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him, leaving a victorious Hermione in his wake._

_However, as soon as she heard the click of the lock of his door, her cool demeanor shattered. The Advanced Arithmancy tome that she held on her lap fell to the floor as she drew her knees to her chest and pressed her hot forehead firmly against them, trying to still her raging thoughts. His words had stung her more than he knew._

_Of course she wasn't good enough for him. It wasn't like she was a skilled seductress, able to bring men to their knees with her overwhelming sexual prowess. Before Malfoy, the only experience she had was with Ron, and that was awkward at best. Of course she was inadequate, how could she even think that she would suffice when he had someone as talented in the sack as Pansy?_

_But really, what did she care? Pansy was his girlfriend after all. Draco held no obligation towards her - she was just a conquest that apparently he had grown tired of conquering. Perhaps if she had been more vocal, arched her back a little higher, maybe he thought her breast were too small. Oh bugger, why was she still worrying about it? If Malfoy was planning on forgetting their little arrangement, then fine. One less annoyance for her, which equaled good riddance._

_Right?_

_Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar grunt from behind Draco's door. The stupid git had apparently forgotten to cast a Silencing spell. She retrieved that thought immediately. 'Apparently forgotten' probably wasn't the right phrase, more like merely 'chose not to'._

_But still she sat there; blame it on the character Gryffindor stubbornness that ran rampant through her, and let the sounds of the two Slytherins permeate through the door as she felt her heart race quicken in the sheer frustration of it all._

_Then there it was, a small little pang in her chest, perhaps to remind her that she was not too fond of the thought of Draco with Pansy, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that she was._

_The sounds of their lovemaking, or fucking, or whatever it was Draco was choosing to call it these days, were growing louder but Hermione would not be moved._

_For some reason, as she sat there rooted to her spot in her comfortable armchair, her book lying disregarded on the ground beside her splayed open unceremoniously she found herself thinking of her younger self, curling up in the tree swing in her backyard. She always sought refuge there when her parents got into one of their typical little spats, swaying back and forth and listening to the acorns fall from their trees until she was nauseated. Then, whenever she would go inside she always found her parents back to their usual state, her mum preparing some overly complex recipe and her dad flitting about the kitchen in a poorly executed attempt to help._

_But when she got out of this chair, everything would still be utter shit. Her Arithmancy homework would still be unfinished, the Wizarding World would still be at war, and Draco would still be fucking Pansy right behind the door to her left._

_Hermione pressed her face farther into her knees and covered her head with her arms, trying to expel her own thoughts from her head._

_Maybe that was her problem, maybe she thought too much. Maybe most normal girls don't have all these damn thoughts flying through their heads all the time. If she could just stop herself from thinking about all this stupid shit she managed to get herself bogged down in maybe it would be ok, or at least some semblance of ok._

_When had this happened anyway? When had her formerly brilliant mind ceased to provide her with the answers she needed? Perhaps that wasn't the question, she knew she had the answer to solving her problems, and it was a relatively simple solution._

_Break all ties with Draco Malfoy._

_There it was, simple and straightforward, so why didn't she do it?_

_It was like those circus elephants, the ones that were born in captivity, trapped into the life of balancing balls on their foreheads and being ridden by screaming children since day one. When they were little the would tie them down well, with thick yards of chain fastened to their feet making sure they couldn't get away. But, as the elephant aged they eventually take away the chain and instead tie them with a simple rope and peg stuck in the ground. See, the elephant is so used to being bound by chains that he doesn't even fight the rope around his foot. They could rip that stake out of the ground and go on a rampage, destroy the circus that has held them captive for years, kill the trainers who whipped them into submission. But they just don't. They sit complacently with their tree trunk legs tied to that peg and continue on with their lives. It was almost like a twisted form of Stockholm syndrome._

_Hermione's mind swarmed with thoughts of porch swings, circus elephants, and a beautiful blonde boy, so she didn't hear the shriek that issued from Draco's room, nor did she hear his door swing open as a belligerent and disheveled Pansy Parkinson came flying from it._

_But Hermione did notice when Pansy stood before her and wrenched her from her seat bringing them face to pug-face. She let out a small screech of surprise when she was pulled from her comfortable position in the giant armchair, but was too in shock by the Slytherins Bulstrode-like strength to question why she was being assaulted. After taking a look at her face she was pretty sure she had a good idea._

_Her hair was tousled, shirt halfway unbuttoned, with an unrivalled look of seething rage on her face. Taking Hermione's face in one hand she squeezed to the point of pain as her dark eyes moved over her face, seemingly taking notice of her unshed tears. Her expression softened, from one of anger to mild-confusion. But then shaking it off she tightened the vice grip she held on the russet-haired Gryffindor's face, Hermione wincing slightly in reaction._

_"He called me by your name."_

_And with that simple statement, growled with as much malice as she could muster, she turned and ran from the common room leaving a baffled Hermione in her wake._


End file.
